Fire Emblem: Predestined
by PeppermintWings
Summary: When Robin wakes up with no memory of her past, Chrom and his Shepherds take her in as their Tactician when it is discorved that she may be the key to the end of their Plegia-Ylisse War. [fixed]
1. His Beginning

Let us cast ourselves into the torrent of time,

Into the whirl of eventfulness,

Where disappointment and success,

Please and pain may chop and change

As chop and change they will and can;

It is restless action makes the man.

-_Faust _by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

**His Beginning**

His companions Frederick and Lissa turned their heads towards Chrom slightly, allowing themselves to give a strange look at the man. They were not surprised to see a smile absent on his face. They had grown used to it by now in the growing days.

"Can you feel it?" Chrom asked, stopping mid-stride.

The armored knight Frederick stopped to look at the prince with confusion. "Feel what, milord?"

"That breeze. It's perfect," Chrom replied. He closed his eyes and took a breath. The scent of grass and wildflowers filled him up from head to toes and he shifted his head to peer at the midday sun no longer quite high but not quite low either beyond the foliage of the trees.

Lissa paused to tuck a stray hair behind her ear and looked from the knight to the prince. She screwed her lips to the side and quirked a brow.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

After a few heavy days, Chrom was used to this question. His companion Frederick and sister Lissa had been asking this question every time Chrom acted strange in their eyes. With another sigh he allowed his eyes to close once more, but he couldn't stop the memory from resurfacing for the hundredth time.

A few days prior to their patrol, Chrom had been stopped by the Exalt of Ylisse.

"Your highness," he said solemnly, bowing deeply.

"No need for that, Chrom. It's just you and I," she said softly, a small smile hidden in her soft eyes.

Chrom allowed himself a grateful smile.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, sister?" he asked as the two of them began to descend a flight of stairs.

"I have important matters to discuss with you, Chrom."

The way she spoke forced Chrom to give the Exalt a strange look, but she did not return his glance. Instead, she faced forward with her head high.

"Is something wrong? Emmeryn?" Chrom asked, suspicious of his sister's tone.

"Chrom, have you thought much of marriage?" she asked.

Chrom's eyes widen and he nervously scratched his head. True, he had thought of marriage. The only problem was he had never thought of marriage with a specific woman in mind. Honestly, if it came to it, he known he'd probably be arranged in a marriage with Sumia. It wasn't his fault he never thought much of marriage.

But how could he...when he never even gave love a thought as well? He was too busy, too stressed to deal with the flittering of women's hearts. He had the Shepherds to govern. He had a country to help. The war itself was just too much to handle. Adding a woman to that...well, it would most likely be the end of him. There were more important matters to be discussed.

"Marriage hasn't exactly been a top priority of mine," he admitted, a strong blush threatening to emerge.

Emmeryn allowed herself a brief laugh but it was cut short by her own thoughts.

"Chrom, our armies are weakening. Our tactics are becoming predicable."

Chrom flinched from the Exalt's criticism. "I apologize, Emm. Tavarius, our old tactician, was killed last month and the Shepherds and I have failed to find a recruit of worth. Our numbers have gone down since then."

Emmeryn and Chrom wandered to the gardens and the Exalt paused to stroke the petals of a white lilium.

"If the number of men continue to decrease, at least know that we will have a slight chance to raise the numbers," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"We've had...offers from neighboring countries," Emmeryn said, smoothing her hands over her already immaculate attire.

"Emm, explain."

The Exalt turned to look at her brother, slightly surprised to see how much he's grown from the beginning of her reign years past. Quickly, she hid her emotions and fixed her expression to be one proper of an Exalt.

"Several countries' royalty had offered their hands in marriage in exchange of granting us as many men as needed incase things do not go as according to plan. There is one princess from a far away land that had requested you and another from an empire in the west. You've become quite popular. Of course, there is still that persistent emperor in the east that requested my hand in marriage as well, promising as many men as I need."

Chrom's eyes furrowed and his mouth parted slightly. He was in no hurry to marry either of theses commonly known princesses. He wasn't quite fond of princesses who had been given gold thrones and silver spoons since their births with no hardships. Their lives consisting within the call of maids and silk gloves that held polished teacups. He had met a princess a few years prior and remembered the sour memory of that red haired girl that threw tantrums if the slightest drop of water fell on her gown. He remembered puckered lips and angry eyes and lustful gazes.

He decided entirely not to fall for any of these kind of princesses when the red haired girl begged for Chrom to show her the gardens. She had took his hand and pulled him deep into the maze until they were at the stone wall covered with tangled ivy and climbing roses. The girl's eyelids were lowered halfway as if to create a passionate aura and leaned in too close. The petals of the roses drifted downwards around them as she stole a kiss.

Chrom remembered being so disgusted with her. Once she had released his lips he turned and walked away, begging the fates to erase that memory.

"You're...planning an arranged marriage?" he asked his sister

"As a last resort, yes. I just thought I should warn you, if it comes to that."

"How much time do I have before that?"

"I've arranged for you to be wed to Princess Aalis by the end of this season."

"And you?"

"I've arranged myself to be wed to Emperor Justinian VI by the end of this season as well."

"You've no faith in the Shepherds?" Chrom asked her, turning away.

The Exalt looked at the prince with sad eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder. Again, she marveled at how much her brother had grown. How strong and how stubborn he'd become. She looked at him and saw such a beautiful heart. It was shame that such an unworthy prim and proper girl from a country in the west would be the one to become his wife.

"It's hard to carry faith in such darkness. The only thing I have trouble keeping faith in is peace," she corrected. Chrome took a slow breath and looked at the Exalt, wishing the two of them didn't have to make such heavy decisions. Chrom knew he wouldn't argue with her decision. He understood that Emmeryn was just trying to do what was right.

Together they began to walk out of the gardens but not before the Exalt stopped again to peer at a wilting cluster of snapdragons.

"That reminds me..." she said softly.

"What?" Chrom asked.

"I had a dream last night. Of dragons," she admitted. "There were two. One was as dark as the night and over a thousand feet tall," she began, stretching her arms up and standing on her toes. "It hovered over a crumbling temple and smoke blew out of it's nostrils. It moved its head as if to search for something and cried angrily. He roared and fire streamed out of its mouth. Then he lifted his wings and looked at the tallest tower and with a claw, knocked off the top. There he found a much smaller dragon that was white and held by shackles. But then she, the white dragon, reached out a wing towards him as if to either beg for help or force him away. The black dragon then proceeded to free her from these shackles by melting them and with his claws, he gently grabbed the white dragon. But the white dragon was thrashing about and screaming so loudly that he then..."

Her pause was unintentional. She hadn't realized that Chrom was staring at her strangely but she took another breath and continued.

"He then raised the smaller dragon to his mouth and swallowed her. Then lightning flashed from the sky and struck the black dragon, turning him bigger and into the shade of angry storm clouds. He lowered his head and set the entire kingdom ablazed and destroyed everything."

"Are you sleeping well?" Chrom asked.

The Exalt laughed. "Yes. Go on. Lissa and Frederick need you. I wish you a safe journey. Know that I love you."

"Chrom!" Lissa shouted, shattering Chrom out of his memory.

"Yes?" he asked.

"What are you doing? I've been calling your name forever!" she said angrily.

"I was lost in thought. What's wrong?"

"The breeze has gone," Frederick told him.

"What? Oh, it has," Chrom agreed. He smiled nervously and scratched his head. He then looked away from his sister and gazed north towards where a nearby town should be if their map was correct. "Onwards?" he asked. He began to take a step forward when Lissa stopped him by gripping tightly to his arm.

"Wait!" she begged.

"What?"

"Over there? Do you see it?"

Chrome directed his eyes to the far west where he saw a glint of silver in the sun. "What is that? A sword?"

"Maybe we should check it out," Lissa said and began to walk that way.

"Hold on, milady! We don't know if that belongs to someone and it's best if we leave whatever it is there untouched," Frederick argued, trying to catch up with her.

Lissa tucked another stray strand of hair behind her ear and stopped suddenly. "Uh, Chrom?"

"What is it, Lissa?" he asked, joining her in the tall grass.

They were still several yards from the unidentified object, but they could see that the swords wasn't the thing catching their attention.

They walked slowly towards the object.

"It could be a Ruffian," Frederick muttered under his breath wearily.

Chrom stopped.

There, just a foot in front of him, was a woman.

She was lying on her back, her face tilted to the perfect sun. Her full lips were parted just slightly and the sound of air coming in and out was barely audible and a bit difficult. Chocolate colored hair framed her face, some locks braided and pulled back. Adorned in a strange robe, it was opened slightly to reveal a sword that glinted back the light. Chrom had never seen someone who looked so...

Peaceful.

"Leave her be. She could be an enemy," Frederick said immediately.

"What if she isn't?" Lissa argued, "Plegians could come marching through, wake her up and take her. And listen to her...she's having trouble breathing."

"The answer is no, Lissa. Besides...there's something I don't like about her," he said sharply.

Lissa scowled and bent her knees to look at the woman better. She was too close and Chrom stepped beside her in case they received the brunt of the woman's awakening. She had to be around Chrom's age or a year...maybe two younger. Lissa couldn't help but admit to herself that the woman was sort of pretty.

Lissa then turned to look at Chrom, who was still staring intently at the woman.

"Chrom," she began, interrupting his thoughts. "We have to do something."

Chrom smiled slightly. "What do you propose we do?"

Lissa scowled again. "Eh, I..I don't know!"

They heard a soft moan and their attention was back on the woman. She shifted some and squinted her eyes against the bright sun.

When her eyes adjusted, they flittered open.


	2. Her Beginning

**Her Beginning**

I peered through the window for the last time before returning my attention back onto the table. Shifting my hair over my shoulder, I grunted as my fingers wrapped around the woven handle of the basket. Muscles strained, I gave an annoyed laugh and set the basket back onto the table to peer inside. The lid flew open and my mouth was agape as a plethora of food was tightly packed alongside two bottles of wine. Eyes widened and brows high, I whipped my head to face my mother, expecting a reaction but finding her contently smirking as she washed the silverware.

"Mother!" I gasped. "How much did you pack in here?"

"Oh, hush," she smirked, "Morgan is going to be famished and I've knowledge that Iason didn't pack much. He's not much of a cook."

She wiped her hands on her skirt as she scolded me, watching as I twisted my lips to the side. Allowing herself to mock my expression, she laughed before she made her way to her room in order to retrieve something. When she came back from her retrieval, she had my robe in her hands. I reached for it so that I could dress myself but my mother held it to her chest, taking comfort in draping it over my shoulders. Pulling my arms through the sleeves, laughter bubbled from my lips as my mother babied me.

Being the only child of hers, I was prone to over affection and overprotection. Myself being the official Tactician of the West Army Division didn't stop her, either.

She turned to face me. "It'll be chilly tonight. Wear this," she commanded as I obeyed with a smile. "And for goodness' sake, Robin, brush your hair. I'll not have my daughter looking like a king's mistress!"

No longer in the comfort of the previous moment, I blushed heavily and proceed to stop to the washroom. As quickly as I could, I proceeded to detangle my hair, the brown locks shining after a hundred strokes to which some of the locks were swiftly braided and pinned into a fixed pile on the crown of my head. When I was appropriate, I dashed from the washroom only to meet my mother by the door, holding the basket.

She glanced up and down, screwing her lips to the side upon inspection. When I was close enough for her to reach, she stretched out her arm to pluck at my shirt.

"Why are you showing so much of your breasts?"

A heavier blush crept along my neck and cheeks as I quickly pulled my robe over my chest.

"Mother!" I exclaimed angrily. _These used to be your clothes when you were my age._

With a tsk and a delicate smile, she brushed a lock of hair from my eyes. They were the shade of darkened honey, like hers. "Why are you still living with me? You're an adult."

"Someone needs to take care of you, you old bat," I laughed, swatting her hand away. "And besides, I'm hardly ever here with this war going on."

My mother smiled warmly and patted my cheek affectionately; she was done nagging.

The curse of old age was hardly upon her, and only appeared in the corner of her eyes. She was barely a woman before my birth and the memories of afterwards eluded me despite frequent questions. Even so young, my mother's magic had begun to spiral downwards. She had only seen the annual comet thirty-four times and pursued my assistance in maintained control of magic.

With a last heavy look, she began to push me towards the door.

"I'm so glad those fit you," she said softly, passing along the basket as her eyes faded over. "I wasn't sure they'd would. You were always so small...you needed my protection as a babe."

My eyes rolled, quickly glancing over the ceiling. "That was ages ago!" I smiled " I'm healthy, in perfect condition and couldn't be better. Look, mother, we're even the same height now!"

Her smile was faint but broad. "Take care, my little bird. Don't drink too much and be back before dusk so I don't burn the house down making dinner." Her hands fluttered over my shoulders, smoothing my robe before kissing my forehead and closing the door.

Basket in hand, I fluffed my hair quickly before making my way east and out of town. The plaza was bright, lanterns already awake in their patience for night to fall. The town people were more active at dusk than dawn, and they filled the same plaza with their laughter and smiles. Vendors catcalled for rich women, and the marketplace was still wide-away, selling various fruits and meats.

Walking through, I had spotted several of my fellow soldiers as they patrolled the area. They smiled when they met my eyes and tossed their hands in the air to greet me, their armor shining like the light in their eyes.

"Robin!" they greeted. "How's your mother?"

"She's fine," I would answer back, with my own genuine smile. "Remember that we are being deployed in a few days to visit the king. Tell the others to be prepared."

"Yes, Miss Tactician!" they would tease, making a fist and placing it on their chests as a sign of respect. Their actions were mimicked by my own before I continued east.

On the outskirts of our little town are a collection of rolling hills; they were the perfect spot to meet. When I turned to look at the town over my shoulder and the town was no bigger than my palm, I saw the rough outlines of two people sitting idly by: a man and a woman who comfortably jeered at one another.

I had only taken a few more steps before the tuned ear of the man turned to peer over his shoulder in an attempt to discover who was approaching. He smiled brightly when he saw me, green eyes shining and teeth flashing.

"Morgan!" he notified his wife, lightly pressing her shoulder. "Look who it is! It's our famous tactician and she's only a few minutes early this time!" He nudged the swollen woman sitting next to time and she turned to meet my eyes. Her face was alight with glee, her smile coming up over her cheeks as the corner of her eyes crinkled with delight. She began to stand, he effort strained as she bent her shoulders back to support her swollen stomach. With a groan she began to hobble towards me.

When she was close enough, I put my palms under her elbows for added support.

"Iason, why on earth did you let Morgan force herself here? I would have been fine meeting in a tavern!" I exclaimed, trying to walk Morgan back to her previous spot. She wouldn't let me and her body bounced with happiness as she rocked on her heels. Unable to control herself, she launched her arms around my neck and we shared a long embrace, her feathery blonde hair tickling my face. The sight of my childhood friends placed me in ease, nearly causing tears to surface.

"Are you _crying,_ Robin?" Iason teased, poking me in my ribs.

"A tactician _never_ cries," I said quickly, blinking back water.

"Well, the woman insisted, Robin. You know how she is: she wears the pants. Damn woman wouldn't take her husband's opinion into her thoughts," Iason complained as he made his way towards me. The moment that Morgan released me, Iason quickly took me into his arms and lifted me off my feet as I gave a half annoyed grunt. Honestly, I loved it, but I made a face of annoyance: eyes rolling and lips pursed.

"Put Robin down!" Morgan shouted. "You know how she hates that!"

"It's fine," I laughed as my feet touched earth. "I'll allow it this once because we haven't seen each other in months."

Iason placed a finger between the space of my eyebrows. "There's a cute little crease forming here, Robin. I bet its hard for the soldiers to resist you," he smirked. I immediately thought of the soldiers in the plaza and stopped the warming beginning in my cheeks.

I swatted his hands from my face, laughing, "Stop!"

"Oh, stop it, Iason! Can't you see she's stressed?" Morgan complained.

"I understand, Morgan. That's why I'm making light of the situation." He laughed and turned towards me, poking my cheek. "But Robin, seriously, I can see why you're stressed: you're constantly blitzing the soldiers from declaring their undying love for you."

With a half smile, I allowed him to keep jeering.

Morgan and Iason had already settled a blanket over the grass. The centerpiece was my mother's basket, filled with several meals and surrounded by Morgan's delicacies and I surprised the two lovebirds with a bottle of red wine.

"How dare you tease me with that?" Morgan cried as she watched me place the bottle to my lips. I smiled at the light haired woman and smacked my lips before she made a move to thief the bottle away from my hands. Unfortunately, her slowness allowed the bottle to be intercepted by Iason, who rose the bottle to his own lips.

"Iason!" Morgan exclaimed, her shoulders slumping and hands reaching.

"Let me drink, woman!" Iason said.

"Enough!" I laughed, "I need it more!"

"You're not the one living with a hormonal woman!" Iason argued.

"I'm the one fighting wars!" I shouted back, snatching the bottle back.

We took turns passing the bottle back and forth and laughter flew freely from ours mouth, a beautiful effect of the wine.

"How is that anyway? All I've been doing is healing work in the town," Iason queried as I took a sip. I brushed a thumb over my lips to wipe away stray droplets before turning to Iason.

"Fabulous now that I don't have to worry about you and Morgan getting hurt. Many die to protect the ones they love and I'm glad I can be able to protect this town and the people in it," I say modestly, a little smile joining my eyes. Much to my dismay, Iason frowned before turning to Morgan, nudging her shoulder.

"That's such a big burden, Robin. And if you keep working this hard, I'm afraid people will notice you," Morgan said simply, taking Iason's hand. She bit her lips nervously and tucked a stray lock behind her ear, afraid to look into my eyes.

"What you mean?" I blurted, holding tight onto the champagne bottle. My heart lurched in fear, beating to its own accord.

"Word has come expressing that King Gangrel is doing mass recruitments, and this town is more or less on Plegia territory. Your general will probably send word to him about your potential," Iason informed, his brows furrowing together.

I stood still a moment, awed by their concerns before a laugh escaped me.

"You're worried about _that_?" I giggled. "I may not be a supporter of King Gangrel, but if he does recruit me maybe I can ask him to send more troops in this area. You all would be better protected and think of the tactics! This is a border town, so its prone to attacks since its not more inside Plegia territory but this town has good resources-"

"Ah, Robin! My head!" Morgan groaned. "I can't speak or understand Tactician." She lifted her hands to her ears and bowed her head, her own brows furrowing in mock pain.

"My apologies," I smiled.

"You're not the least bit concerned?" Morgan asked.

"No, of course not. I will persist in anything that means keeping my friends and comrades safe," I say simply, lifting my shoulders and letting them fall. "Anyways, if I could get King Gangrel to realize the abundance of natural resources on this side of the border-"

"If you're going to go off on tangents like these, please allow me just a sip," Morgan begged, cutting me off.

"Sorry, milady," Iason hiccupped, taking the bottle from me. "_The rum is gone._"

"Bastards," Morgan muttered under her breath, her eyes darkening into the shade of storms.

"I've another bottle but its not for you," I giggled, trying to push stray hair from my blushed face.

"When I deliver this baby, so help me, I will get my bow and arrows or a tome and kill the both of you because of this," she groaned.

"Oh, c'mon, my love!" Iason cheered, wrapping his arms around Morgan who tried to pry him off in a huff. "Poor Robin and I haven't had the chance to unwind in quite awhile," he argued.

"Fine," she snapped, "But these baby cakes are _mine_." In moment of tenderness, Iason reached over and briefly grazed his lips over Morgan's, earning himself a rare and pure smile from her.

By the next hour, the sun was moving to set and Iason and I had downed the last bottle. As tipsy as we were, we laid next to Morgan and spilled stories we were unable to share before since my departure. Morgan complained about constantly having soldiers in her home and Iason laughed about it, reminding her that _someone_ needed to help the wounded. In return I told them about my brief romance with a handsome soldier, sadly telling them it wasn't in the stars as he revealed to be a heavy follower of Gangrel's, praising an antediluvian belief. After a while, the stories began to close, hidden in the soft sighs of the night.

"Morgan, what are you naming the baby?" I asked, trying to rub away sleep from my eyes.

"Iason and I have thought about it, and there only one name we could give it, regardless if its a boy or girl."

"Which is?"

"_Robin_," they sang together. Their voices collided together in my ears and for a brief moment I was lost in time.

"Robin?" I asked startled, moving myself up to support my body with my elbows. "Why, Robin?" My brows furrowed as my lips pursed.

"If it wasn't for you. Morgan and I wouldn't have met on the battlefield. We know you didn't do it intentionally, it was all tactics for you. But the bonds we forged, it was unmistaken. And you're a protector, Robin. You're an inspiration. There could be no better name for our child," Iason chimed.

"_Robin_," I whispered, testing the name on my lips; my name and their unborn child's name.

"And you didn't forget our promise right, Robin? From when we were kids?" Morgan giggled.

"How could I forget?" I say bewildered. "We promised to name our kids after each other."

"Good. So don't forget that promise," Morgan dictated. "Hurry up and get married already while you're at it. I can't _stand_ being pregnant all alone."

"You only have two more months," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"I am this close to popping," she whined.

"I don't have time to get pregnant anyway, let alone marry."

"I have a good friend that could be interested," Iason offered, brows dancing.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I said _no_, Iason."

"Alright, alright!" Iason laughed.

I collapsed back onto my side and stretched my arm to reach as far as I could across the ground, digging my fingertips into the grass blades and twining them with the wild daisies that grew on these rolling hills.

"If everyday could be like this moment," Morgan said softly.

"I agree. Nothing better than being tipsy and happy," Iason sighed.

I nodded in agreement, watchful of the stars.

"You know what would make it more perfect?" Morgan asked, sitting up.

Iason and I rose in confusion, prepared to lie back down again. "What?" I asked.

"If that scent would go away. It's faint, like rotting flesh," Morgan gagged.

"I don't smell anything," Iason said, lifting his face.

"It must be my acute, hormonal senses, but can't you smell it? It's getting stronger! Oh, my," Morgan groaned, twisting her features.

The smell finally reached my nose, causing me to gag. Shivers wracked my body and my eyes began to water from the rank smell.

"Gods! What is that smell?" I stammered.

In the next moment the disappearing sun was blocked out completely by a cruel deity and the three of us snapped our heads to our small town.

It was wrapped in darkness.

"What on earth..." I began to say.

Without warning, a strange light flooded over the hills and the plaza, sapping the energy from the life that had anchored itself here. The light was accompanied by a strange hole that eclipsed over the sky, strange symbols orbiting slowly around it as the eye of the eclipse opened. The eclipse hung high and from it came forth a rushing black mist that was birthed from the bizarre light. That same mist made its way to the sleepy town.

An overwhelmed noise escaped my lips as I doubled over. Excruciating pain coursed it ways around my limbs and chest as I fell to my knees. My hands clutched the chest area of my shirt and I could feel my heart beating angrily against my ribs. Whatever was pouring out of that light was beckoning me and I felt strangely connected in the most unusual way.

Screams echoed across the hills and I looked at Morgan and Iason, their eyes fastened to the sight in horror. The screams of the town followed one another and my heart wretched harder against my ribs, unaware of this feeling inside when I thought of a single person.

_Mother_, my thoughts screamed.

Without another thought, I began to clumsily race down these rolling hills, tripping but pushing myself up without fail. My sweet alcoholic breath quickened and labored as the winds picked up, whipping my hair. It was almost as if the winds were trying to keep me away as they whispered my name ever so softly against the raging fire that had begun to take over the town. I could barely hear Morgan and Iason yelling for me, wondering if they too were racing behind, hurrying to help the town from whatever monstrosity was raising the ground and causing fire to spew. My screams joined the town as a nearby hill caved in on itself, almost capturing me in its wake.

I rolled to my left as an unexpected comet of fire arched over me, yelping as it singed my hair and cheek. Embers and ashes rained down like snow and I was left wondering why and how. The town was now before me, begging for salvation. Several tomes were scattered in the frenzied plaza and I struggled to save one from tramping feet. Roofs were aflame and people were screaming, holding their children and trying to find escape. Everything was collapsing under the weight of itself and my poor mother would be defenseless.

As I tried to cut through the plaza, a sudden odor of rotting flesh overwhelmed me and I gagged, pulling my robe over my face to mask the strong scent. My eyes caught something glinting slightly to my left and I turned, gasping as I saw a man loudly grunting, an axe poised over his head. He was quick and before I knew it, he was bringing the axe down.

A quick scream pierced my mouth as I narrowly avoided it, the axe stuck just to the right of my head. The axe was cemented inches deep into the fixing of the house behind me, caught in the mortar and bricks. He grunted and growled angrily, trying to pull the axe out in frustration. My body was frozen where I stood.

It wasn't a man.

Perhaps it had once been a man, but not anymore.

His skin was shrunken and coarse, pulled tight over his face with messy stitching. He was decaying, with flesh of gray. The teeth that showed over his pulled lips were brown as dirt and many were even missing. Black mist spewed from his mouth as he struggled to pull the axe free, the activity taxing.

When he finally managed too, I screamed again and placed my gloved hand on his chest. In the next instant, lightning cracked from my palm and the tome flipped open, several symbols rotating around me as he was slammed into the house behind him. With a grunt, the decaying man dissipated into mist, leaving his axe behind.

"What was that?!" someone yelled. My head snapped the other way, spotting Iason supporting Morgan by the waist, ash on their faces and eyes wide.

"What are you doing here?!" I shouted. "You should have stayed behind!"

"No way we're going to leave you alone to fight! You almost died!" Morgan thundered.

"You _can't_ fight!" I roared back at Morgan.

"I found a tome lying on the ground! And there is no way Iason and I are letting you walk into this alone!" Morgan roared. "We spotted some soldiers earlier; they're trying to get rid of the monstrosities but we can't find their leader!"

I was about to yell something when a familiar scream pierced the darkness.

"Mother!" I screamed. I began to run towards the direction of the scream, Morgan and Iason far behind. My feet brought me to my house, aghast to discover a hole was blown through the side of it. Debris scattered the path and the roof was gone, some parts of the house alit with flame. Decaying men were everywhere but inside. Running through the mouth of the hole, I narrowly avoid flaming debris and found myself in the center of the house, collapsed on my stomach. Burns and cuts laced my face and arms, and my robe was torn in several places but I tried to push myself up painfully, searching.

_"Where is she?!_" a warped voice thundered.

I lifted my head up groggily, finding my mother inches off the ground held at the throat. She clawed at the hands that held her captive, her voice straining and her breathing labored as she stared angrily at a silhouette of a person shrouded in black magic.

"Mother!" I screamed.

The black mist shifted curiously. What I believed to be the head turned towards me, its features hidden by its cloak of black.

"Robin," my mother sobbed. "Run!" Her voice was weak and barely audible, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

_"Oh, my! How delightful! She's right here,"_ the warped voice smirked. The figure dropped my mother, her body collapsing in a heap as she took a wheezing breath.

"Mother!" I yelled again, unable to say anything more in my panic. I struggled to push myself up and held my hand out. Lightning crackled from my palms and shot towards the mist who deflected the lightning easily with a wave of its hand

_"Dearest Robin! How dare you hurt your savior,"_ the mist cackled as it walked towards me, every step calculating.

"My savior?" I asked, incredulous. "Who _are_ you? Leave my mother alone!"

"_Dearest Robin! Did your mother never explain your _beautiful_ fate?"  
_

"Leave my daughter alone," my mother whimpered hoarsely, her hand rubbing her throat as she struggled to stand, unsuccessful. Her eyes pleaded with me to ignore this monster but I was confused and lost. What fate was I supposed to have besides lead an army division for Gangrel? To ensure and protect the lives that needed me the most?

_"Oh, Robin_," the mist sneered. A hand reached out and gripped my neck with amazing speed, a weak noise escaping. It lifted me up, my toes barely brushing the flooring. I raised my arms up, clawing at the hand encasing my throat. Being so close at range, I could see through the mist as it parted and rejoined, the features coming together.

My heart stopped.

It was _me_.

"You're _me_?" I trembled.

The woman in the mist laughed... _I_ laughed.

_"Yes and no. I am you. From the future."_

"What?" I stammered, unbelieving.

_"Thank you for letting me find you so quickly. I'm afraid your daughter Lucina has failed in her heroic quest,"_ she marveled. _"How the fates do love me."_

"I don't...have a daughter," I strained, gasping for air. Everything the woman in the mist said further enhanced my confusion, not allowing me any time to contemplate her proceedings.

The woman smiled, evil lacing it. With a quick flick, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and stared me down, her red eyes glowing enthusiastically. The hand that wasn't clenching my throat was against her hip and she wore no gloves unlike myself.

She bore the same mark I've been hiding since I was a child.

_"I wish we could talk more, dear Robin, but its time to return my heart."_

"Robin!" someone scream.

My hand-_her hand-_was ripped from my throat and her body was forced to the other side of the house by a blast of fire. I collapsed to my knees and coughed madly, and through my watering eyes I spotted Morgan and Iason, their faces strewn with streaks of ash, weary and huffing. Morgan could barely hold herself up let alone her tome. Iason tried his best to support her, a bronze sword by his side.

_"You cannot escape me, Robin!" _the woman screamed_. "You bear my mark! I will destroy everything you love!"_ She rose to her feet once more and held out a hand. The black mist that surrounded her enveloped my mother then Morgan and Iason and then myself. Earth forced it way to any openings of the house, cementing the windows and the hole that was blasted earlier close.

_"I've no use for mercy,_" the woman growled.

The mist tightened around our throats, robbing us of air. We screamed together, flailing and thrashing as our faces were contorted by the force of pain-such excruciating pain. Their screams overlapped mine and I tried to reach towards them but found myself unable to move. The black mist stretched over us and closed, our noose that would tear us from this world.

My future self waved her hand and the roof was ripped away completely as the four of us began to rise up, the black mist's hold tight and secured. They all reached for me, my mother...Morgan...and Iason... They shouted my name as their faces were lined with tears. We rose over the town and continued to fight against the magic.

I screamed their names as we were all lifted in the air, above the aflamed town. They each reached for me, screaming my name, screaming for help.

But I couldn't help them, couldn't reach them, couldn't save them.

I doubled over, screaming and crying as my breath and soul were weakening.

When we reached the height of the sun, the black mist dispersed...

...and we began to fall...

...down...

...down...

...down...

Our voices were silenced as we hit the ground. Not a single scream echoed, but pain enveloped me. The force of it so full that I could only gasp. Each movement was a piercing knife that killed.

_How...was I ...not... dead?_

I could barely turn my head, but it moved just enough so that I could see Morgan and Iason reaching for one another, Morgan's other hand clasped over her misshapen abdomen. Slowly, and through tears, their eyes began to become devoid of light. Their mouths empty, except for a trickle of blood spilling over the edge of their lips.

"Robin," Morgan whispered. "This...this isn't..."

"Your fault..." Iason finished for her. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to send away that last image. Their last moment, their last tear falling forlornly. I began to sob, trying so hard to send my insane thoughts away: this was my fault.

They were gone.

Their child was _gone._

"_Robin_," my mother said weakly through my weeping. I craned my head slightly and opened my eyes. Her eyes were losing light as well and around her neck she wore a lace of bruises. I could barely see her, my own eyes clouded with grief and pain.

"Mother," I sobbed, "Don't leave me."

"You are not the pawn of some scripted fate," she began, trying to reach out to me.

"Save your breath," I begged hoarsely, trying my hardest to ignore this killing pain.

"You are more, _so much more_. There's something between all of us, that keep us together, invisible ties that will always connected us."

"_Mother_," I sobbed again, struggling to reach out as well. _"__Please don't._"

"Please forgive me for trying to keep you away from that script. I pray that my prayers for your future do not go unheard."

Our fingertips lightly brushed each other's and her smile was weak. My gloves were destroyed, singed in places by the fire and barely holding onto my hand. I could see my cursed mark, and the light left my mother's eyes.

_Never_ have I felt so useless.

When I was a young girl, I remember seeing soldiers coming home from their battles. The women in the plaza sobbed happily and I tugged on my mother's robe, a question rolling off my lips.

_"Why are all the women happy?_" I asked.

_"Because all their soldiers are alive,_" she replied, smoothing my hair.

_"Are they usually not alive?_" I asked aloud, staring at the weary men.

_"Sometimes they die valiantly in battle," _she said_._

_"So why are they all alive?"_

_You see that man there?"_ my mother asked, leaning down and pointing ahead. I had nodded and spotted a man dressed in golds and silk. The plaza cheered for him, threw flowers and adorned him with gifts, which he tried to decline modestly. He was humble, but his smile was the brightest.

_"His strategies ensured their lives,_" my mother said proudly.

I remember that's what I wanted to do with my life: ensure others of theirs. My life was spent reading about battles and protecting.

But this time, I couldn't protect the most important lives.

My mother's...

Morgan's...

Iason's...

The unborn child's...

I tried to stop crying, but found myself lost in an abyss of pain. The only thing that could tear me out was the sound of approaching footsteps. I looked up, and saw the silhouette of my future.

_"Dearest Robin, it's time to inherit my memories. I apologize for the delay,"_ Grima sneered. She hovered over me, her steps calculated and victorious. "_None of this would have happened if you had just accepted me earlier. Your dear friends and mother are gone because of your refusal to cooperate. You could have saved them and the child. What a shame."_

"Who are _you_, truly?" I pleaded, coughing blood as my body heaved, trying to expel adrenaline.

_"I am the wings of despair,"_she laughed, lifting her arms. The black mist that covered her expanded, taking on the shape of cursed angel wings.

_"I am the breath of ruin,"_ she shouted gleefully, clenching her fists above her head. The earth rolled around us and finally cracked, taking half of my little town to the core of the ground, the fire slowing.

_"I am the Fell Dragon, Grima,_" she finished, her eyes glowing a darker red, no longer brown like my mother's.

_The Fell Dragon? The same God my mother was forced to worship?_

With a smirk, she raised her arms upward and the black mist took hold of both us and lifted us once more into the sky. My body was limp and immobile and the motion enticed a scream from my lips.

_"Forgive me, but I cannot have a body in such a form."_

My screams grew worse as a piercing pain overwhelmed my heart. The black mist struggled to heal my body, closing cuts and soothing burns and snapping back my bones into place. My eyes closed shut but the tears watered down my cheeks still, and I could hear a man scream. Opening my eyes before too long, I could see two men fighting and I realized I was in someone else body. Mine but not mine's.

A premonition?

Or Grima's memory?

Violet lighting surround a large man and the other man raced to him with a sword. Their grunts were joined in the collapsing temple and I looked down at my hand, charging it with lightning. The man hit the other with a quick burst of magic, slamming this young man into the wall. He struggled to get up as he pierced his sword into the ground to support himself, surrounded by debris.

The dark haired man cackled and held up a hand, charging the air with dark magic.

"_Die_!" he thundered as he hurled the violet lightning towards the young man.

Panicking, I intercepted the dark magic with my own lightning, enticing an explosion. When the air had cleared, the older man stared at me angrily. My heart thundered angrily and beneath my heavy hood I shared the same glance. How dare he attempt to hurt my king?!

_My king?_ I thought abruptly, confused

"ROBIN!" the young man thundered. Breaking out of my thoughts, I raised my cursed hand, prepared to strike again.

Before lightning could shoot, the king looked at me and that gaze...it was so full of...

Admiration.

"This is it! Our final battle! You're one of us now, Robin. No destiny can challenge that. Let's kill the dastard and be done with it!" he shouted. "We need to get closer! Go ahead, Robin!"

A smile filled my face and I nodded. "Right!"

Th dark mage laughed, his face contorted with victory as he cackled, "Why do you resist?"

"MOVE IN AND STRIKE!" the king yelled.

"You're a fool, young hero! Your struggles are entertainment! You cannot unwrite what is already written!"

The king clenched his jaw and lifted his sword. With his amazing agility he ran to the mage and sliced his side,injuring him greatly before the mage turned and flipped his book, gold symbols surrounding him before he expelled a violet bolt that struck the king, causing him great harm. He was close to striking again before I ran behind the king and expelled my own lighting, the tome flying open.

The mage grunted as he took the force of the magic, unable to move and providing opportunity.

Lightning snapped once again from my palms and shot towards the mage as the young king's glinting sword pierced through the man chest. A force from the man slammed us back, ripping the king's sword out. A gurgled yell escaped from the mage and his body erupted into an explosion of flames the color of violet.

The king and I struggled to stand, our bodies sore. When we looked up, we saw the mage fall to his knees and collapse.

Sweat beading down our faces, he gave me a full smile.

I was prepared to ask him who he was and what just happened when the flames began to speak, their dark lull calling attention to themselves.

Before I could blink, the dark mage casted his hand towards us in his last moment and I shuddered from the immense power that was exuded from his magic. He threw his arm and a swell of dark magic raced towards us.

"This isn't over! Damn you _both_!" the dark mage yelled.

The king hadn't turned his head yet and timed slowed. As he turned toward the swelling, I placed my hand on his chest and struggled to push him out of the way.

As he landed on his back, the swell pushed me into another pillar and I gasped painfully, unable to catch air as it was knocked from me. Panic rose from my core and all I could think of was trying to get my king away from me as he ran to the pillar.

"_Chrom_," I begged, unable to speak fully from the pain gripping my body. His name flew so quickly from my lips, I couldn't process it. Grima must have knew him or maybe this body did; the memories were pushing themselves onto me, trying to take over my mind.

"Robin, are you alright?" he said with panic, putting his arms around me so that he could push me into a sitting position. I nodded but then shook my head, gasping yet again as I pulled my knees in and struggled to stand with the pillar as my base.

"That's the end of him," he king smiled.

The king's hands hovered over me, prepared to catch me if I failed to stand.

Still unable to catch my breath, I winced.

Red laced over my vision, little veins that crossed into each other as I struggled to push the sight away. It brought a pain with it that quickened the speed of my heart, the same feeling as when I was lifted into the sky by Grima's magic.

_Accept_ _me_, Grima whispered, forcing its being into my body.

I gripped the pillar tighter and winced again when my marked hand began to sting painfully.

"I'm glad you're ok," the king said gladly as he watched me, unknowing to my inner pain. "We carried the day. We can rest easy now. At long last." My sight pulsed and expanded, the pain earning a double overed grunt. "Thanks to you," he finished.

"_Chrom_," I begged. I wanted the king to get away from me, before anything could happened.

He looked me in the eyes, confused. "Hey? What's wrong? Are you alright? Hey!"

I looked up from the floor and gazed into his eyes. In those eyes I could see my own, glowing red.

And red was all I could see.

_Accept_ _me_! Grima shouted in my thoughts. My body pulsed again and I screamed.

My body was no longer my own.

Lips that weren't mine smiled menacingly.

Eyes that weren't mine glowed red.

Hands that weren't mine touched Chrom.

Stored energy flowed easily from core to my fingertips. The cursed hand dug through the weak spot in Chrom's armor and sparked.

Lightning sparked around us and Chrom's eyes widened. He stepped back, surprised, and I could see it.

A bolt the size of his sword was hidden in the chink of his armor, sparking madly.

My heart lurched at the sight of eyes that glowed with betrayal.

I looked down at my cursed hand, and it madly sparked like the bolt in Chrom.

My mouth opened in fear and the red veins cleared quickly from my vision. The two of us were frozen in time for a few seconds, completely shocked.

My feet shifted forward as he shifted back and my soul wretched. He took another step as I tried to reach out to him, unable to find the will to touch him.

_I hurt him_, I thought. _Why would he ever want me to touch him?_

"Robin," he gasped, "This is not your...your fault." His breath was strained and I could hear my heart in my ears.

It's...not...my fault.

The same thing Morgan and Iason told me.

But...

It _is_ my fault.

"Chrom," I begged.

"Promise me you'll escape from this place," he grunted as his hand gripped the bolt. "Please...go."

With a strained breath, he collapsed onto his knees with his eyes just as begging as my voice. For a final moment, we gazed softly before the bolt faded and he landed on his side.

A rough sob escaped from my lips as I tried to catch him.

_"No no no no,_" I cried, trying to reach his face. _"Don't you dare die!"_

"_Accept it and accept me,_" Grima whispered, it's red vision trying to force its way into me. _"Accept these memories. They're yours."_

A force prevented me from reaching my king, Chrom. This version of me _knew_ him. The premonition of myself, or the memories, reached with all she could to touch him and we found ourselves unable to. Both the past me and the present me.

I didn't know this king; just his name. But this body reacted to him, cried over him and begged with _every_ part of her soul to wish this a dream.

I could not allow this body to undergo any more pain caused by this dark God.

"I will not accept!" I shouted, my gloved hands shoved into my hair to cast out whatever being laid in my thoughts.

_"You have no other option! You will die without these memories!"_ Grima screamed.

"You will not force these memories into me, into this body!" I retaliated, crying.

_"If you do not accept me, everything you know and love will be gone!"_ Grima tried, red flashing in my eyes.

"I REFUSE!" I screamed.

At the sound of my voice, the castle shook and Chrom's voice echoed alongside Grima._ Promise me you'll escape from this place..._

Tears raced, the only proof of my inner battle with Grima. As I prepared to flee, the temple collapsed like a dying man, and suddenly everything turned black.

I stood there in that darkness all alone, and I was no longer in the memory but in a place of my own: my thoughts.

As I prepared to turn and search for an escape, I was approached by orbs of sapphire. They danced before me and in an orb I saw memories.

Ones that were _mine_ and not the future's or Grima's.

Faces were in each one, and they laughed in delight, their happiness lost upon me, until I recognized them.

My mother...

Morgan...

Iason...

A child...

My eyes widen in awe and my lips quivered. I reached for the orbs, shocked when they danced from my fingertips. In that moment, I saw my hands. They were naked, no gloves, and the only thing upon my right hand was the sole mark of my birth. The one that my mother never gave me answers for.

Together the orbs allowed me a last vision of my memories before they shifted into wings.

_Butterflies_, I thought as they began to flutter away.

Trapped in fear, I reached blindly for all the butterflies, all my memories. Thousands of them escaped from my chest and I struggled just to catch one,_ just one_.

One by one, the memories faded with each passing butterfly.

A butterfly with a memory of how I met Morgan and Iason danced from my sight.

A butterfly with a memory of the soldier coming home flew from my fingertips.

A butterfly with a memory of beautiful days fluttered from chest.

These memories were gone the instant they escaped.

But for a brief moment, I caught the edge of a wing and saw myself reflecting in their sapphire beauty. It was the memory before Grima's coming, the one where I laid on my back, looking up at the million stars above me with Morgan and Iason by my side. We laughed together on the hillside, sharing stories and celebrating my return. The moment where they told me their child was to be named Robin, the moment where we blessed wine with our lips, the moment I had been happiest and knew who I was.

With a determination, the butterfly flapped her thin wings and escaped from my fingertips. It was the last butterfly around me. I reached with all I could but it had escaped with the last memory of myself.

And there I was, all alone in the darkness of my thoughts with no glowing butterfly to lead me.

I fell to my knees, cursing whatever God I worshipped...

...But what God _did_ I worship?

...And did he know I was here?

...Does he know _who I am?_


	3. Awakening

**Awakening**

There are beautiful ways to waking up, and then there are terrible ways.

The most beautiful is when you blink your eyes open and notice that the sun has waited for you. He lies beside you and caresses your face, making sure you sense his energy and presence as he shines over you. His whispers stir over your lips, hoping you understand how much he loves you as he nudges you awake. You would blink three times and stretch towards him, and he exudes happiness because in that stretch you can almost touch him in the language that skips words.

The most horrible is when you moan awake because the sun landed too brightly on your soft eyes. He's on top of you, and he's heavy. The kisses that fall on your cheeks are too rough and you notice that he is jealous of sleep because he tries to stir you out of it when you're not ready. You would scrunch your face and groan and try to pull the blanket over your eyes because his fantasy is ripping you from your senses. You understand that the world wasn't made for his happiness...or your own for that matter.

But then there are ways of waking up that land in the shades of gray, that are neither horrible or beautiful. When you wake up it's neither for the sun's happiness or jealousy. You lie there, in your nesting of blankets and feathers, and you simply wake up. The sun hasn't arrived yet and you see a slightly illuminated sky. You turn so that you're on your back and stare at the sky beyond your window.

You don't blink three times, stretch, scrunch, or groan.

You just lay there.

And it's too dark for you to be awake but you are past the point of no return and sleep will not accept you. So, there you lay...looking at the stars and praying for meaning or maybe just a glimpse of your destiny. The moon watches you, and its funny because he does not give in to jealousy or happiness like the sun.

Instead, he pities you.

Unlike the sun, he doesn't climb on top of you or lie beside you. Instead, he sits on the edge of your bed and gazes at you from time to time.

Lying in the silk sheets, I giggle softly and the moon turns towards me again. My conscience laughs at itself, realizing that we pity ourselves just as roughly as the moon. He understands me better than the sun because he taps my nose playfully and tells me its time to wake up, but I continue to lie in the bed as I stare at him soundlessly. Through his pity, he wraps his hands around my face and begs me to become aware. Maybe it's the depressed look in his eyes and the sadness of his voice that makes me sit up.

He folds his arms around me and softly kisses my neck, begging me again to wake up. Tired, I slowly lift my arms to fold around him too, and tell him that I'll wake up on one condition. He promises me anything as he strokes my hair.

To build my courage, I separate our bodies and stare into his pitiful, moon eyes. I can sense his fear, but he sits up proudly as I whisper two words: _my name?_

His eyes widen, but a smile crosses over his face as he envelopes me softly, like its our last moment together.

His lips fold over mine as we tighten our grip, our kiss swelling with every moment, but its over too soon when, in the space that we stop to take a breath, he whispers his answer.

"Robin, my petite bird."

He kisses me again and he begins to shine too bright, and the sun takes notice but it's too late.

The moon envelopes me fully and pushes me out of sleep.

And the jealous sun lands too brightly over my soft eyes.

* * *

"_Chrom, we have to do _something," a woman begged. I stir, surprised that my body is unused to _not _being in pain. I try as hard as I can to open my eyes, struggling as the colors that bloom before me try to join together to create a person...two people, actually. The sun is a bit harsh and it's quite hard to open my eyes fully.

"_What do you propose we do?" _a man asked, his voice directed to the woman.

"_Eh, I...I dunno!" _The blurry woman turns to the man in hopes he'll have something to share upon the situation. They look at each other, the woman slumping her shoulders helplessly and the man unsure of which actions to take. I come to realize that they are discussing me as they lean in my direction, unknowingly blocking the sun from my face.

My hazy vision clears and my eyes slowly open all the way. For a moment, I stare past them, looking at the clouds that race with unburdened freedom. They almost bring a smile to cross my face when my sight switches back to the man and woman...well, a very young woman. They have become crystal clear and when they notice my stirrings, the blond young woman turns to me with a beam. The man beside her notices her reaction and turns to see me as well. Unlike the young woman, he is slightly taken aback by my awakening but he soon regains his composure after a quick gasp.

The man's hair is a beautiful shade of blue, like the opposite far end of the sky when night is approaching. His eyes share the same color and beneath his clothing and tattered cape, its obvious his training is hard and extensive by his worn, shoulder armor. On his right shoulder he wears a brand, an exotic symbol that has my memory running but nothing surfacing.

The young woman beside him peers at me intensively through pale gray-blue eyes. Her face reminds me of a heart, framed with a maiden head covering with lace trim falling past her shoulders. Blonde hair cascades in various length in two tails to her shoulders like the lace covering. No armor protects her save a thick leather vest around her midsection and a dress cage around her legs. It's a strange fashion and I hardly notice when they begin to bend towards me.

"I see you're awake there," the man says. I open my mouth slightly, but find myself unable to speak as I try to search for words to say. They are lost on my tongue and my mouth seems unfamiliar, as if I don't know how to work it.

"Hey there," the young woman offers softly with a little giggle. She smiles and her eyes crinkle with warmth; she shows no fear to a complete stranger, but perhaps there is fear in my own eyes. Unlike her, first encounters don't seem easy for me.

"There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know," the man says, a little smile playing on his lips. I know he is doing this for my benefit, because he believes I may think that _he _is a threat. My mind runs wild, but the girl nods in agreement to the man. "Give me your hand," he says softly.

I inclined to reject it but the expressions on their faces assure me of security. Before I can comprehend my actions, my right hand slowly extends towards his. In reaching for him, I see a brand upon the back of my palm. The mark confuses me as I peer questioningly to the six eyes connected to the crossing lines. I want to continue to analyze it but my hand makes contact with the man's and he pulls me up swiftly and effortlessly.

The motion entices a quick panic, and nearly causes me to collapse into his chest as I gasp. I look up and for a moment, I'm lost in the gaze of him. Despite my tumble, he smiles with a genuine warmth and I cannot tear myself away for a second, standing frozen.

He's...very beautiful.

I would say that it was almost as if time had stopped, but I couldn't...the clouds were still moving behind him and they took my attention, still racing unburdened. The two of us dropped our hands and I looked cautiously over his shoulder, spotting another man stepping down from his horse. He wore an unhappy expression and his eyes furrowed. The gaze in his eyes were peering at me with intense scrutiny and I became painfully aware of myself.

In this awareness, I quickly looked towards the ground and noticed that the grass was nearly brushing the tips of my fingers. The nakedness of my hands caused me to flinch and I grimaced, clearly resolved against the wind that plays between the grass. Quickly, I bend down..._my gloves must be somewhere..._

"You alright?" the man asked. His voice is deep and calming and there's something about it that puts me at a moment's ease when my palm finally finds what I've lost: worn, brown leather that slips easily over my fingers without unnecessary pulling. I slowly bend myself straight and smile peacefully at the man, praying that he also believes me to not be a threat.

"Y-yes..." I stammer, words spilling out of my mouth as I awkwardly test it.. "Thank you, Chrom." The words flow quickly and hardly run through my conscience. It doesn't even seem wrong until he speaks.

His brows furrow together and he frowns. A sound of confusion echoes from his throat before he composes the right words.

"Ah, you know who I am?" he asks.

A sound of surprise echoes from my throat, my lips parted slightly. "No, forgive me, I...It's strange...Your name, it just...came to me..." I say, confusion illuminating my face. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ears so that my eyes aren't covered. I want to make complete eye contact, to assure the man I've no agenda. It's clear to me that I draw suspicions, and I want their reservations to fade.

"Hmm," he sounds. "How peculiar." His brows still touch together and I begin to grow anxious. "What's your name? What brings you here?"

I open my mouth to speak...but nothing comes out. My mind has gone blank and I try to trace my past, searching for my name in the crazed thoughts that whip around me. My eyes close and my gloved fingertips touch my temples. No matter how hard I think, nothing comes to surface. My brows crinkle together like Chrom's and I gasp in frustration. I've no past...and no name.

_There's nothing. _

I look back at the man, Chrom, and give a look of despair. "I...don't know it..." I huff.

I angle my shoulders so that they can't see me as my hair falls over, shrouding my face. As hard as I'm trying to think, _I can't remember anything. _It's like my mind is this empty slate and it's indented but in those indentations, I find nothing of worth.

I find nothing at all.

My body wants to panic and I want to give into it, but the trio begins to speak to me. As they do so, I turn my body back towards them as I straighten my composure and push my hair out of my eyes. The only sign of inner turmoil is how my bottom lip tucks inwards, teeth gnawing.

"...You don't know your own name?" Chrom asks me.

I'm ready to shake my head but as I try to make the movements, I notice my surroundings.

I'm in a meadow...wildflowers and tall grass kissing our knees. To the south, there are beginnings of a nearby town made known by the soft tolling of bells in the distance.. To the east lies a worn road. Several trees sprout in random locations and I recognize _nothing. _I wonder how I got here. Did I walk and fall, losing my memory? I look around, but there's hardly a boulder let alone a rock anywhere in the vicinity. Did someone leave me here? Nothing is familiar and the earth is a flat plain that goes on forever and forever. Is this my home?

"I'm not sure...Forgive me, but where am I, exactly?" I ask, frowning.

Chrom prepares to answer when the blonde girl blurts, "Hey! I've heard of this! It's called amnesia!"

Her explanation frightens me. I know of amnesia, but the concept seems so...untrue, possibly unlikely. To not remember anything of my past or my identity scares me to such a point that I can imagine my hair turning white.

Then again, I'm living this moment right now...and I know nothing about myself.

"Maybe it's not amnesia," I say quickly, tugging a hand through my hair. "Maybe its more like being lost..."

Any explanation is better than amnesia; the mere thought terrifies me as I ball my fists and quiver under my robe.

"It's called, milady, a load of pegasus dung," the man holding his horse's reins intonated. When I looked at him, I noticed how his eyes were ever watchful, careful of my every move. His dark eyes were set upon me, studying me. I couldn't help the shiver of anger that ran up my spine. I was careful to keep my eyes upon him, too, my gaze as heavy as his own.

"Are we to believe that you remember milord's name, but not your own?" he asked carefully. His voice was so deadpan that it had set me off. Every word he picked planned and there was a pretext behind them. I fought to keep my voice calm.

"I-I'm telling the truth!" I tried to say with dignity, but my voice broke. My emotions betrayed me and for all I knew it could have me hung. The man's gaze unwavered and I prepared to keep glaring until Chrom stepped in.

"What if it _is_ the truth, Frederick? We can't just leave her here, alone and confused. What sort of Shepherds would be then?" Chrom calmed. My sights ripped from Frederick and I looked at Chrom, just as afraid.

"Just the same, milord. I emphasize caution," he stated. His eyes narrowed at me. "'Twould not do to let a wolf into our flock."

_A wolf?! _my thoughts exclaimed. _How dare you!_

"Of course...we'll just take her back to town and sort this out there. The sun will set in a few hours," he dictated, nodding at Frederick.

"Wait! One moment!" I exclaimed, my heart jumping at the thought of being taken away by a band of strangers into a strange town.. "Do I have any say in this?"

"Peace, friend–I promise we'll hear all you have to say back in the town. Now come," he offered.

"You will stay at the front, beside my horse and I," Frederick ordered. I bit my lip angrily and stuffed away a huff.

I had no option, really. Frederick mounted his horse and waited for me to start walking towards the south of where we lied. My fear corrupted me so much that I pulled my robe around me and even pulled my hood up to hide my face. The fear that lied within me was a cause of seeing that this trio of strangers held weapons. Chrom held a large sword and fear sang that at any moment he could sneak up behind me and cut his weapon through my heart. Even Frederick, the monotone soldier, could easily toss his lance through my body at the call of bird. And I doubt the young woman would heal me if it came to any of my injuries, despite her cheery tones. Every moment spent listening, waiting for an extra quickened step, a turned heel, or a shift of balance. Signs of ready combat.

With my head casted down, I tried to make myself as small as possible. It was unrecognizable if my body shivered from fear or anger because it was hardly cold. Did I hold great honor before my memories betrayed me? I wondered how the old me would react to this situation.

I must have appeared extremely jittery because Frederick spoke, with so much as no glance to me as he said it. "A worried fool is a guilty one."

As much as I wanted to snap, I ignored it, still waiting for a surprised attack. Frederick, untrusting to my silence, spoke again. "Are you concealing weapons under your robe?"

"If I am, I will not share that information will you. I don't want to be unprepared if attacked."

"What right do you think you have to withhold information?" Frederick assessed.

"I lost my memory," I say softly. "Please allow me not to lose my defense as well."

"So you claim," he huffed..

Frederick frowned but he said no more. I doubt he believed me anyways.

I was unaware of any weapons in my robe, as silly as it sounds. But when I search my robe, I discover a bronze sword and it gives me comfort, but my nerves still bounce.

"Am I to be your prisoner?" I ask, turning around and stopping to face Chrom. Frederick immediately turns his horse so that I stay in his sight as I pull back my hood and stare Chrom straight in the eyes.

Chrom and the young woman jump a bit from my sudden question but they both offered me the kindest smile they can achieve with a soft laugh.

"Once the council and I establish that you're no enemy of Ylisse you'll be free to go," Chrom assured. I wish I could say that his words comforted me but my thoughts raced.

"Is that where we are? Ylisse?" I implored.

"You've never heard of the halidom? Ha!" Frederick laughed, the first emotion I've heard from him. "Someone pay this actress! She plays quite the fool! Her furrowed brow is especially convincing..." Frederick snapped.

I gritted my teeth, and fought to stop myself from spouting angry words. My hand even reached for the bronze sword hidden under my robe.

"Frederick, _please_," Chrom begged, taking notice of my reaction as he turned towards me. "This earth is known as the halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Lady Emmeryn, is called the Exalt," he explained. "And I suppose proper introductions are in order. My name is Chrom—but you already knew that...This delicate one here is my youngest sister, Lissa."

The blonde was smiling until her introduction. She quickly whipped her head towards Chrom and nearly smacked him with her staff. "I am not delicate!" she exclaimed.

Lissa turned towards me and regained her composure, smiling brightly again after a _hmph! _

"Ignore my brother, he can be a bit thick at times. But you're lucky the Shepherds found you. Brigands would have been a rude awakening!" she laughed.

"Indeed," I smiled, Lissa putting me at ease with her avoidance of pretext. I wondered if she thought of me as no threat when another thought came to mind. "Shepherds? You tend to sheep...in full armor?" I looked at Frederick and an image came to mind of him prancing about in a pasture, a shepherd's staff in hand as he gathered his sheep.

Needless to say I winced.

"Heh, it's the most dangerous job," Chrom laughed. "Ask Frederick the Wary here yourself."

"It it is a title I will always wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keep an appropriate level of caution. I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my vocation states otherwise," Frederick explained.

I almost detected sarcasm in that statement, but it made sense and I felt heavily embarrassed. When I looked at the siblings, they were smiling softly and trusting. It was good that they had someone to protect them, despite his heavy jabs of accusation.

"I understand now, sir," I say, looking at Frederick. "I would do no less myself." I try to give Frederick a smile but his stoic expression has me turning to Chrom instead. "My name is Robin."

The phrase almost escapes me but the moment those silky words leave my lips I feel a moment of ecstasy to have remembered my name. Clearly happy, I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear and try to keep my happiness at bay.

"I just remembered that," I nearly exclaim. "How odd but I suppose that's one mystery solved."

"Robin?" Chrom repeats, a smile also on his lips as his eyebrows unknot themselves. "Is that foreign? Ah...well, I believe we can discuss it later, we're almost near the town. And once we—"

"Chrom!" Lissa interrupts, shouting. "The town!"

I whip my head to face the rising smoke and my heart lurches at the sight, pounding madly. My mouth gapes open as the fire dances with the setting sun, unbelieving to the strange events. Are such mysteries common in these lands?

"Damn it!" Chrom snaps. "Those—blasted brigands! No doubt! Frederick, Lissa! Let's go!" His words chopped and commanding. I doubt he remembers that I stand here.

"What about _her?"_ Frederick asks quickly, jutting his chin in my direction.

"Unless she is aflame as well, it can wait!" he shouts, eyes narrowing.

"Aptly put," he says, whipping the reins. His horse runs towards the fire.

"Let's go already!" Lissa shouts to her brother. Without another glance at me, they race off.

"But what about—" I begin to yell. My hand reaches for them but they're already gone, leaving me alone in their dust on the worn path.

My mind enters a crossroad.

I've been given the unique chance to run away, take the opposite route and escape for my life. Despite the kindness of Chrom and Lissa, they're words could be made of fiction and I could be letting them bring me to my end. And despite my disability, a pouch attached to my belt rattles, filled with coins, perhaps just enough to help me get started on the finances of becoming a refugee.

I turn on my heels and begin to run in the opposite direction when I see something that stops me.

It's a daisy, growing all alone in the shadow of the other wildflowers and the grass. My heart pounds against my chest heavily and I scrunch my face, trying to avoid my emotions.

I'm just as alone as that daisy.

I stare at it, for a just a moment longer and spot a blue butterfly trying to perch on the flower's small leaves. It scrambles, trying to get a just footing before taking a sip of the flower's sweet nectar. Full, it flies up towards me and then passed my shoulder, turning my eyes to the burning town.

I want to scream, to curse what ever God allowed my memories to go, but instead I bite my lips and turn on my heels again, and start to run towards the fire.

I grit my teeth as I run and try to avoid the smacking of my sword's scabbard against my legs. My thoughts scream for me to turn around, to avoid trouble but my heart urges for me to run as fast as I can to the trio.

After all, I owe them my safety.

They're willing to sacrifice their lives for the town, and maybe their intentions aren't as crazy as my mind deems them. I imagine that before my memories were gone I ran as much as I could because my body doesn't faze when I run for the better part of the trail. When I approach the cobblestone, I weave about the homes, trying to find the source of the fire and the Shepherds. Their voices lead me to them.

"We have to stop them!" Lissa begs as I turn a corner to the plaza of the town.

"Don't worry, Lissa. After today these bandits won't harm anyone ever again," he grunts, pulling out his sword.

"Chrom!" I shout, my hair whipping.

He spins around so fast and the expression that I see on his face is anger as he swings his sword in my direction. I narrowly avoid it, jumping out of the way and gasping, "Wait!" as the tip of the sword brushes against my belt.

"Robin!" he exclaims, his eyes wild as he realize the cost of his actions. "Y—You followed us! Why?"

"I...I'm not certain," I confess, hoping he senses the honesty. "But I'm armed...and I think I know my way around a fight, if you'll have me," I beg.

"_YOU THINK? YOU BELIEVE THIS TO BE CHILD'S PLAY?!" _Frederick shouts, rearing on his horse.

"Frederick!" Chrom yells. "Robin just stay close! Don't engage in battle!" he commands.

My hopes fall but without warning a see a brigand come up behind Chrom, axe high.

And then everything falls away, motion after motion flowing without awareness of my thoughts.

With grace even unknowing to me, my branded hand pulls the sword from its scabbard and my elbow meets Chrom's chest whose air gusts from his lips. Frederick's horse rears again and Frederick shouts in anger as they scream my name.

The brigand shouts gleefully but when I shove Chrom out of the way, he yells, unhappy for a new target. His axe is poised high and he prepares to bring it down when I cut to his right, my sword slicing his side. His scream echoes as he clutches his side but he turns to me, ready to attack again.

He lifts his axe and I begin to see it...values...weaknesses...strengths...all in a simple glance of assessment. It is so clear that when he brings his axe down again over my head, I dance to the left and wound up behind him. In one fluid moment, my sword glints in the light and the light disappears in the man, only seen on the other side.

The brigand grunts and his axe clatters on the cobblestone. Everyone is still for a moment until the brigand falls to his knees and slides forward, away from my sword. When he falls, I can see the Shepherds clearly now and they're all shocked, eyes wide. Even the stoic Frederick allows a quirked rise of his brows.

"Is this enough proof?" I ask quickly, keeping an eye out for other brigands.

"I—is that a tome?"

"What?" I gasp as I open my robe. On the side, there is a large enough partition that holds a book. Quickly, my fingers reach for it and pull it out, a yellow tome with a thunderbolt inscribed on the cover.

"You know magic?" Frederick asks, just as surprised.

"I...believe so?" I stammer. "Maybe I should check?"

"Maybe we should keep a few paces behind you," Chrom coughs, obviously uncomfortable as he buries his eyebrows together and the upper slope of his mouths grimaces.

"No, I can control it!" I say quickly, trying to gain approval. Utterly confused, I whip through the tome and search on a way of usage. "How did this work again?" I ask softly to myself.

"ROBIN!" Lissa shouts, raising her staff in the direction of danger.

A quick-witted mercenary dashes towards me as I whip my head around. His knife whistles through the air as he tries to plunge it into my chest but I roll to the side, landing on my stomach as my tome rolls as well. Gasping, I try to reach for it as the mercenary races for me again. Pushing myself up quickly, I snatch the tome and hold my palm out.

Time slows once more as I carefully watch how he plants his feet as he runs. He takes another step before my body swells with the power of the tome in my hands. It flies open, the pages rustling like a mad wind playing in the trees. Electricity sparks around me and they call for the incantation circle that swivels around my body, the symbols rotating and rotating before they fly from my fingertips and into the chest of the mercenary.

"Finish him, Chrom!" I order, forgetting my place as the sparks dissipate.

Chrom hardly hesitates as he grips his sword tights and finishes off the mercenary.

"Frederick! Take the east side of the plaza!" I yell quickly as another mercenary rushes towards me. I switch for my sword and my blade heavily clashes against the enemy. Gasping against the strength of this mercenary, I try my best to push him off at me, taking a wide swing that knocks him into Chrom who in turns kicks the mercenary to his side and into the water below a bridge. Frederick, uncaring for who is giving orders, attacks the two mages across the east, his skill with a lance as amazing as it is frightening.

"Are you hurt?" Chrom quickly asks me. I shake my head but wince, pulling back my robe to discover a gash in my side.

"I'm fine," I wince, trying to staunch the light blood flow. "It's just a nick."

"It's foolish to leave a wound untreated on the battle field. Do you have a vulnerary?" Chrom asks me.

I shake my head again.

"Lissa!" Chrom calls. "Hurry and help Robin."

The younger sister races towards me and inspects the cut, her fingers lightly brushing over it as I wince. "Lucky for you this is my area of expertise," she says, her staff glowing as she thrusts it into the air. A burst of light quickly surrounds us and when I peer under my robe I notice my flesh cleaned and healed.

"Are you still with us, Robin?" Chrom asks me, his eyes concerned.

"It's strange..." I say softly, watching as Frederick finishes up with the mages. "I _see_ things...on the battlefield."

"You see things? Like what?"

"Their strengths, their weapons, the flow of battle between them and I...I must have studied this...somewhere," I whisper, utterly amazed.

"You're saying you can size up the enemy with no more but just a glance?" Chrom asks.

"And maybe more if I apply myself—"

"Damn them!" a voice interrupts from the northern bridge, "Finish off those Shepherds! Deal with the villagers later!" A gnarled man lies protected by two others. He holds a woman in his grasp and an axe. My eyes watch him carefully, analyzing the ways his arms ripple with cautioned fear. He's a mess, scars on his face and arms, no real protection besides the sole chest armor that gives him no less coverage than that of the fur on his shoulders.

"Lissa, stay behind us," I command. "Chrom, help me finish those two towards the north bridge."

"Don't rush into danger!" he grunts.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Worry about the villagers," I huff as we run.

"You're lending us your strength, and that makes you a friend. An ally like you gives us courage."

"Thank you...but there must me more to it than that."

"What do you mean?

"I've a theory that there's a tactical advantage to fighting side by side..it's fuzzy, Chrom, but I think working in pairs improves strength, defense...maybe speed. Yes, I'm sure of it!"

"Well, then, let's test your theory."

It's like...magic, the way it works. Our feet pound the same rhythm as our hearts slow. This tactic must have been the soul of my work in my past memories.

We're on the same wavelength.

Chrom allows me to strike first, my bronze sword cutting upwards and through the man guarding the bridge. The enemy guard, if still standing, is then attacked by Chrom, whose sword flashes after mine. Our actions are clockwork and clean, every move planned and connected. Our breaths huff the same as we turn our attention to the next guard, who is speared by Frederick, accompanied by Lissa who holds out her staff towards him. The cut on his arm mends instantly and the same bond that connects Chrom and I, connects Lissa and Frederick.

How could I have forgotten this?

Still amazed, I lift my head to the northern bridge and find comfort in the simple breeze that shimmies through my hair. The gnarled man pushes the maiden in the arms to the side and she collapses on her side, crying out.

"It's too dangerous, I'll head there first," Chrom tells me, but I shake my head. "Tell the others where to move, Robin."

I shake my head again but look at Lissa and Frederick, both waiting for commands from Chrom.

"I'll make sure you stay down, princey!" the gnarled man continues to shout, axe swinging.

"That's...Garrick..." Lissa whispers, her eyes wide and hand on her heart.

"Here, sheepy sheep! Meet your slaughter!" he booms, smile wide and crazed.

"He's insane," I gasped in bewilderment. "What is this?"

"Robin!" Chrom shouts as Garrick charges towards us. Unlike the other men with axes, he's much quicker and I'm immediately on the defensive, blocking a tough blow with my sword. The brute of his strength entices a stunned release of a breath as I'm nearly knocked over until Frederick comes up behind me and throws a lance. Garrick shifts his balance at the last second and the lance barely grazes his shoulder.

Garrick charges towards me again, finding favor in the weakest of the Shepherds, but I fling my sword to the side and jump out of his way, pulling out my tome as Chrom crosses over to me.

Like a fire, we ignite again and our breaths even as I hold out a palm. The tome flutters open like the wings of a hummingbird and the beautiful symbols of my magic circles around me, charging me and trusting me to withstand the power to exchange it into an enemy.

My body sighs with the comfort of the electricity that surges within me and as the last of my breaths fades, the lightning jumps from my palm to the chest of Garrick.

He screams as he's knocked into the side of the bridge, his chest burning like a star as smoke rises from him. Garrick's strength is weary and the power still surges within me as Chrom shouts something and then plunges his sword where the star burns, taking the last living remains of Garrick's humanity.

By the time the smoke stops, my breaths even again and the electricity has ended its course in my body. I walk over to my discarded sword and pick it up to slide it into its scabbard as the townspeople gather the bodies for burial.

"That's the end of that," I groaned as I rubbed my shoulder. I try to focus my energy as I massage it but Lissa comes over and removes my hand, waving her staff over the injury. Instantly, the muscles relax and warm, a sigh escaping my lips as the pain eases.

"I was worried you wouldn't hold up to Garrick's axe but the only thing you got from him was muscle inflammation instead of a decapitating," Lissa cheers, patting my shoulder.

"Thank you so much," I smile, feeling the corner of my eyes crinkle.

"And holy cow!" Lissa gushes, nearly clapping in amazement. "You were incredible! Swords, sorcery, _and _tactics! What _can't_ you do?"

"You're certainly no helpless victim, that much is known," Chrom chuckles as he adjusts his shoulder armor.

"Indeed. Perhaps you can even enlighten us on an explanation as to how you came here?" Frederick scoffs, eyes narrowed.

I winced and brushed my fingers against my temples but still, nothing more came to mind. "I understand your caution, Sir Frederick," I begin, "But I can't explain why only some knowledge has returned to me. But, _please, _believe me. I have shared all that I know." I try to refrain from begging, but under my robe, my hands clench and unclench as the hair rises on the nape of my neck.

For a moment, Chrom stares at me, his blue eyes ever watchful. I don't break our gaze, but I pray that he sees my intentions are true.

I even keep praying as he begins to smile.

"You risked your life to fight for Ylissean's. My heart says that's enough," he says simply, taking a step towards me.

"But your mind, milord," Frederick argues, approaching. "Will you not heed its counsel as well?"

Chrom shakes his head. "Frederick, we Shepherds could use someone of Robin's talents. We've brigands and unruly neighbors biting at our halidom, all looking to spill blood over our soil. Would you really allow the Shepherds to lose such an able tactician? Besides, I believe Robin's story, as...odd as it might be."

My heart swells over th thought of such mercy and for the first time since the meadow, I feel truly at ease. It's like a caressing breeze, one that holds you for a brief moment and wraps you up in fabrics of time and peace. It's brief but beautiful all the same.

"T-Thank you, Chrom," I stutter, still amazed with thee turn of events. I'm not even worried over Frederick's skepticism.

"Will you join us, Robin?" Chrom ask, holding out his hand with the sun playing with the light on his face.

"I would be honored," I say softly, my hand meeting his for a second time.

Our grips are tight as our eyes lock. I smile brightly, happy that I've least gained the confidence of one man.

"Thank you for aiding us, Robin the Tactician. I'm sure the townspeople extend their thanks to you as well."

I nod and let our hands fall back to our sides. Frederick watches warily, but Lissa abruptly crosses over to me and ties her arms around me, a tight embrace but welcomed as she quickly lets go and smiles just as bright as myself or her brother.

"Milord," Frederick cuts in, "The brigands who attacked spoke with a distant accent."

"Plegians, right?" Lissa adds, her smile fading to a disappointed frown.

"Plegian? What is that?" I ask, eyebrows cutting to meet each other.

"Plegia is Ylisse's westerly neighbor. The country sends in small bands of thieves and practiced murderers into our territory in hopes to instigate an inescapable war," Chrom explains, his earlier smile metamorphosing as the corners of his mouth depressed downwards.

"And its the poor towns people that suffer the worst!" Lissa nearly shouts, scrunching her face and balling her fists.

"Do not be swept up in your anger, milady," Frederick sighed, climbing off his horse to stand with us. "They have us: Shepherds who protect the sheep. Your anger will only cloud your judgement."

Lissa took a turn to purse her lips, but she huffed quietly and shuffled a hand through one of her pigtails, obviously at war with herself. "I know, I know," she breathed. "I'll...just try getting used to it."

Still unused to my surrounding, I took a look over my shoulders to gather in the sights, taking notice of the woman who Garrick held between his chest and arms walking towards us with her father.

The woman was frazzled, her dirty blond hair undone but smooth beneath her maiden headdress. She tried to swipe the dirt from her dress but only issued in it becoming worse. It was a pleasant sight, seeing her safe and sound despite her shaky walking, but her father placed a hand on her shoulder, confidently walking towards us.

I was the first to turn, trying to give them a comforting smile as they approached, but the maiden had her bright green eyes fixated on Chrom who was the last to turn. It was humorous, watching her steps melt as her eyes sparked when Chrom smiled at her.

I held in my giggles, staring at this lovestruck woman who adored her savior, Chrom as oblivious as a fish who dives straight into a bear's waiting jaws.

"T-Thank you," the maiden stuttered, trying to fix her headdress.

"It was no trouble," Chrom laughed. "In fact, we'd be lost without Robin's tactics. You should thank her."

I nearly jumped at the sudden attention, but I quickly waved my hands in front of me, swiping away at the gratitude. "It was nothing!" I said quickly, a half-smile lifting on my face. But the maiden barely glanced at me and I sighed in relief.

"Milord, please!" her father exclaimed. "You must stay the night! We are but simple folk of simple means but we own an inn and the town would most gladly toast your valor with a feast!"

"Your offer is most generous, sir, and your hospitality most grand...But we must hurry to Ylisstol," Frederick declined. It was the first moment the maiden took her eyes off Chrom, the look of disappoint most uncomfortable for me. She looked practically on the verge of tears.

Lissa, however, blew past Frederick's words, her eyes happily shut as she chittered, "Dark meat only for me! Medium well, of course! And no salt in the soup, I simply—wait, what?!" Her eyes snapped open as his words hit her. "We're not staying?! But, Frederick, it's nearly dark!"

I snapped my head to the sky, confused by the speed of time. A gasp escaped my lips as I saw the evening, the world painted by streaks of colors that began with a golden orange streaked with pink that faded into a darkening blue, the color of Chrom's hair.

I frowned, most uncomfortable with the speed of darkness as I thought about sleeping in a comfortable bed at an inn. I hardly would enjoy the feast as much as the comfort in being wrapped in silk, sleeping away the last bit of weariness. Maybe the next day, I would awaken with my memories.

It was hard to say whether my disappointment was greater than Lissa's.

"When night falls, we'll camp. We'll find our meals off the land, make our homes of twigs and the like...I believe you mentioned you would be "getting used to it?" Frederick smiled.

Lissa's face was alight with shock which then turned into mock anger, her lips pursed. "Frederick," she stated, "Sometimes I hate you."

Frederick chuckled, the sound gruff but surprisingly pleasant.

"You've a stern lieutenant there," I smiled, planting a hand on my hip.

"_Stern _is one word for it," Lissa scoffed. "I can think of _plenty _others."

Chrom raked a hand through his hair, his lips creased upwards.

"Frederick only mostly smiles when he's bringing down the axe," he said.

"_Ahem!" _Frederick huffed. "I am _still _present."

"Oh, we realize," Chrom chuckled.

I laughed, the emotion carefree as my comfort around them grew.

"Milord remains as amusing as ever," Frederick scowled. "We should get going. Night is upon us."

"Right, right," Chrom echoed, turning towards me. "Ready, Robin? The capitol isn't too far."

"Lead the way," I smile.

The path we take out of the small town is worn and I send a prayer of thanks, grateful to know that our path wasn't obscured. The sunlight casts the most beautiful gold onto the trees, their leaves gathering the light onto their tips. Any light that isn't captured by the trees gathers on our faces amidst the little shadows. It makes the Shepherds face look softer and more trustworthy...even the stoic Frederick.

Frederick sits comfortably on his mare but through the corner of my eyes I see his wary glances. It's neither warm or cold, and in a sense I relate to his suspicions. If I was outside of myself, I'd stare at this body and question her...who she is, where she came from, her purpose, her goals, her past, her family–

I nearly choke at the word..._family. _I clench my hands and grit my teeth, tightly squeezing my eyes. The thought is painful and my heart wrenches as I spread a hand above my breasts. No one came to claim me in the town or in the meadow, no one came to rescue me save the suspicions among the Shepherds. Whatever or whoever came to lay me in the meadow only left me a name and two weapons.

The thought is difficult and I force my eyes to blink several times to avoid the ocean of tears behind my eyes. The frustration of who I am appears in my rough steps, but the sound disappears in the clang of armor, thankfully. None of the Shepherds notice my change of attitude but Lissa turns to me and observes my frown, offering me a smile that exudes warmth. It's enough to counter Frederick's gazes, and I smile until Lissa turns around to face the road.

With each tiring step, my heart grows heavy and it isn't long until my plodding steps are mimicked by the rest of the Shepherds. Trapped by the verge of insanity in my thoughts, I nearly miss the Shepherds' conversation.

"It's dark, Chrom," Lissa wines with heavy steps. "And the bugs are out! Disgusting little beasts that crawls and bite! And–_ack, agh! Won goph en mah mouph! Ack, agh!" _Lissa shrieks, swiping at her mouth.

I stifle a laugh as Chrom crosses over to her, smiling as well.

"Aw, come on now," he begins as Lissa stares daggers. "Hardships create character. Would you like to aid me in gathering firewood?"

"I think I swallowed it," Lissa cried, clutching her throat. "I'll pass on the firewood gathering; I've built _quite _enough character for one day." Lissa kept her frown consistent on her face as Chrom chuckled.

I wanted to share in their laughter, but my stomach interrupted me. Looking sheepishly at the Shepherds, I offered them a weak smile as I clutched my stomach. "We should probably be thinking about food. I don't know about you all, but I'm famished."

"Agreed, a little hunting and gathering is in order," Frederick nodded.

"I'll help with the firewood," I offered, beginning to turn and walk away.

"I'd prefer it if you remained within these limits, miss," Frederick said sharply. "Perhaps you can clear the campsite instead."

I took a sharp breath at Frederick clear disapproval, and shut my eyes tightly, trying to put my anger away.

"Frederick–" Chrom began to say, his eyebrows knitted together.

"It's fine," I interrupted, my voice weak. "I'll clear the campsite. Just bring back some good game."

I looked over to Frederick who gave me a curt nod, but Chrom's passed me an apologetic look. I waved it away as I begin to clear the site.

They went on their ways to hunt and gather and after the site cleared I plopped down and wrapped my robe around me, burying my nose into the soft fabric.

The odor of smoke was apparent but beneath it lied a faint...faint scent of wine.

A million thoughts race across. Was I an alcoholic, or did the scent come from a celebration from where I lived? Did this robe belong to someone before me? My mother? My father? A sister or brother?

Did they miss me?

I folded myself deeper into my robe, forcing the tears to stay back as I pulled my hood over my head.

"Don't cry," I whispered to myself, biting my lip. "Don't cry...don't...cry..."

I tried to keep my emotions at bay, wrapping my arms around my knees as my heart lurched in pain.

I cried.


End file.
